


sweet

by awkwardspiritanimals



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: College!AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:45:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardspiritanimals/pseuds/awkwardspiritanimals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t keep coming at this time because it’s your shift, you know.”</p>
<p>"Good to know."</p>
<p>(college!au where Fitz works the late shift at the campus cookie shop where Jemma likes to study)</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweet

“I don’t keep coming at this time because it’s your shift, you know. It’s just that this is the time when it’s quiet and when I’m free to come work,” Jemma says, and Fitz looks up from the ingredients he’s measuring out.

“Good to know.”

“And I mean, it’s just as much your fault as it is mine.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. I always come in at this time, because it’s quiet and this is when I have free time, but you are also always here.”

“True. Between classes and labs and homework, this is the time that I can work. Plus, limited actual interaction with customers, which is not my strong point,” Fitz says. He works the last shift, from eleven to one in the morning, so his duties mostly include making batches of dough to leave in the fridge overnight so that the early shifts could make the day’s cookies without too much prep work and then cleaning everything up.

"You’re alright at interacting with me,” she says, and he smirks at her.

“You must be the exception,” he says, and she rolls her eyes. There’s flour smeared across one cheek and all down his apron, and it’s sort of adorable. She shakes her head to clear it, looking down at her homework on the counter.

After she’d been coming in every night for more than three weeks, he’d offered to let her sit back in the little kitchen area with him while he worked, saying that it would be easier for them to talk if they weren’t separated by the counter. Jemma had replied that maybe she wasn’t interested in talking to him that much, even though it was clearly a lie. Fitz had shrugged and returned to his work, but had come around to help her move her books when she got up.

It’s been that way ever since, for the past three weeks, Jemma sitting at the counter on a stool and working while Fitz mixes dough and cleans. Occasionally someone will wander in and buy something, but almost no one stays. Mostly they talk and she works and he brings her tea and snickerdoodles between batches of dough; she hasn’t paid for anything in weeks, and he says it’s because it’s such a pain to open the cash register, and she knows he’s lying but let’s him get away with it.

Jemma looks down at her homework and sighs. Nothing’s urgent, all just work she’s doing ahead of time, but she really hasn’t gotten much done tonight. She closes her books with a huff, pushing them out of the way so that she can move up and sit on the counter. Fitz turns to her, eyebrows raised.

“I haven’t gotten any work done at all.”

“Sorry?” he says, moving over to the fridge.

“You should be. It’s your fault.”

“My fault?”

“Yes. For distracting me.”

Fitz drops the ingredients he’d grabbed onto his workspace and turns to her, and he’s suddenly standing close enough that she can smell him over the general smell of the shop, flour and sugar and whatever cologne he uses, and it seems unfair that he gets to be cute and smell like cookies and smirk at her like that.

“Are you saying that you, the great Jemma Simmons, are distracted by me?”

That smirk really won’t do, and it only takes her a second to make a decision about what to do before she reaches for him, wrapping her hand around the strap of his apron and pulling him forward so she can press her mouth against his. He makes a soft noise of surprise against her lips, and she smiles, pulling back just slightly.

“Maybe.”

“Oh,” he says, eyes wide, and she pulls him back in without bothering to say anything else. Jemma’s been wanting to do this for a while now.

He steps closer and he’s better at this than she had assumed he would be, his hand spreading against her waist and tugging her forward just slightly. Jemma bites at his lip, tugging slightly as she pulls away, breathless, and Fitz drops his head to press warm open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

“Fitz?” she asks, and he _hmms_ against her pulse point in response. It takes her a few seconds to remember what she wanted to say.

“When does your shift end?”

He has to pull away to look at his watch, and she’s sort of fascinated by the way his fingers unconsciously flex and unflex, “Fifteen minutes? Why?” he asks, and he’s just as breathless as she is, which makes her smile.

“I was thinking that you might come back to my room with me.” Fitz’s eyes go wide, and he lets out an _oh_ of surprise. It probably hadn’t been necessary to raise her eyebrows and bite at her lip, but she’s really quite fond of the look on his face.

“I was sort of hoping to take you out on a real date first,” he says.

“These past six weeks haven’t counted?”

“A real date somewhere not here, where I’m not required to serve and you’re not working on your homework,” he responds, and then the color drains from his face, “Unless- I guess I just assumed- we don’t, we don’t have to, I mean. If you- I just assumed and I shouldn’t- if you don’t want to go on a- if you don’t want to do the whole dating thing. We can just go back to your room. That’s fine. I mean, that’s great,” Fitz rambles, wincing at the end, rubbing at the back of his neck and smearing flour there, not meeting her eyes.

In that fifteen seconds, it becomes abundantly clear to Jemma that Leopold Fitz is not a one night stand kind of guy. But that’s not why she says what she says. She says it because it’s true.

“I do want to do the dating thing.”

His face lights up as his eyes dart to hers, “Really?”

“Yes, really. But,” she says, and she tugs him forward again, so that his hands have to rest against the counter on either side of her legs to keep his balance, “I’d also like to do the thing where I take you back to my room and have my way with you.” Jemma cuts off Fitz’s sharp intake of breath with another kiss. When they part again, both of them are breathless and flushed; she rubs her nose against his with a grin.

“That is, if you don’t mind doing things a tad bit out of order,” she asks, raising her eyebrows at him. Fitz shakes his head, and then sighs.

“This is going to be the longest last ten minutes of a shift in the history of the world, and that’s saying something.”

“It’ll be worth the wait.” Jemma leans forward to kiss him softly, tugging on his lower lip again, raking one hand through his hair, and he groans, a pleasantly low sound from his chest, making her smile against his mouth.

“That in no way helps.”

“Wasn’t meant to,” she replies, and he’s looking at her like he can’t quite believe she’s real, and she could stand to see that look more often and for at least a little bit longer, so she tugs him forward again and he comes willingly.

It probably means he’ll have to stay late to finish cleaning up, but she’s pretty sure it’s worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fill of sorts, in that I saw a post of college aus and then quibbler reblogged it and I was like ‘hey write me the cookie shop one I want it’ but then messaged her the next morning saying ‘hey don’t write that turns out I wanted it so badly that I just wrote it while I was going to sleep last night’ and that’s how this came to be.
> 
> My campus doesn’t have a ‘cookie shop’ and I’m not sure I accurately portrayed one because I have no actual idea what that is beyond what the title implies. But I figured that we could all do with more Leopold Fitz smelling like cookies in our lives so no one would complain.


End file.
